


I don't even feel the cold...

by Inkonspicuous



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10980543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkonspicuous/pseuds/Inkonspicuous
Summary: (Based on the Christmas comic) Amelie ponders her lack of emotions, and who else to silently ponder to than her dead husband? (This is a 1AM drabble and my first written anything in over a year, I'm dying inside)





	I don't even feel the cold...

**Author's Note:**

> This is keeping me awake at 1am and I have to get up for work soon. I did not need Widowmaker feels at this hour, thank you very much.
> 
> Also I haven't written anything in over a year, I've pressed the Enter key too many times. Read it more like a deep form of poetry...that doesn't rhyme...
> 
> Fuck it, enjoy.

Amélie did not feel the cold.

Flecks of white snow were dancing through the sky, gathering on the ground. The distant sound of happy families laughing together as they celebrated the holidays was distant. While the fortunate ones were celebrating, Amélie stood alone in the snow, a thin grey and pink coat covering most of her pale blue skin. She looked at the piece of marble sticking out of the snow.

Amélie did not feel the cold.

She did not feel sad as she read the name engraved on the slate.

Yellow eyes only stared at the piece of stone as her mind wandered.

Gérard Lacroix. A name that once made her cheeks tint at the mention, the only thing that would break her trained sophisticated demeanour. The man she married. The man she killed.  
When she killed him, she cried. Then she felt numb. An invisible trail showed her the way back to where it all started. The only place she could think of going to. They welcomed her with open arms, and congratulated her on her assassination.  
She felt nothing.  
Even now, looking at the result of that night, she felt nothing, except for a pang of confusion. Should she not be upset? Angry? Shouldn't she feel something?

She loved this man, once. She knew that. She loved him more than anything in the world.

Until one day, she didn't.

She opened the coat she wore, and took a single red rose from inside. She leaned down and placed it carefully on the patch of dirt that was yet to be covered by the snow. Would it, perhaps, cover the rose as well?

This was her parting gift to him. Until that burning urge in her mind compelled her to return once again.

It was growing dark. Amélie turned and walked away from the graveyard, through the streets brightly lit up with decorations, and various lights. A street lamp flickered as she walked past. Snowflakes melted slowly as they touched her hair, some of them falling away as a cool breeze drifted through the air.

Amélie did not feel the cold.


End file.
